Beautiful Savage - Caroline Peckham Page 0,117

reached up to take her hands, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles and sighing at the feeling of her flesh against mine. Even this small contact was like a balm to my soul, but I was greedy for more all the same.

“I was always so eager to impress Giuseppe,” I admitted in a low voice. “So much so that I didn’t question anything when I probably should have. But I was desperate for his approval, his love, aching to feel the pride of a father because I’d never had one. And now...I have one when I’m too old to need one. And I’m afraid that it’s too late.”

“He will love you,” she breathed, saying the thing I hadn’t. That gut-churning ache which I didn’t want to admit. That I’d always craved the love of parents and now that I really had one, I was afraid that the time we’d spent apart, the things I’d done with my life up until now would make me lesser in his eyes than his other sons. That I’d never match up to them when it came to his love. “How could he not?”

I looked up at her for a long moment, the sun cresting the horizon through the windows behind her and gilding her in warm light which shone through her red hair and set it alight with colour.

“I think I’d still be lost on that mountain if I hadn’t found you,” I breathed, tightening my grip on her hand and tugging so that she would come and sit with me.

She lowered herself onto my lap, straddling my thighs and moving into my space, brushing her hand along my jaw and looking into my eyes until I couldn’t hold her gaze anymore. Frankie was still hunting for information on Duke for me, but he’d managed to unearth enough hints to suggest the motherfucker had survived and the fact that he was still out there somewhere filled me with a darkness so black that I couldn’t see through it whenever I gave it my attention. I’d promised her the heads of the men who’d hurt her and I hadn’t delivered on that yet. It cut me up inside.

Winter either didn’t notice the dark turn my thoughts had taken or she chose to ignore it, perching her ass on my knees as she brushed her hands over my body in a way that felt so good, I couldn’t help but relax a little. I watched her as she looked at my chest, her fingertips caressing the scars that adorned my flesh, making my skin tingle with her gentle touch as she explored my skin with fervent adoration.

“None of them hurt like the one in here, did they?” she breathed, her fingers trailing over my chest as she painted patterns over my heart. “The one you were given when they killed your mother and took you from your family. The one you always felt but never understood...”

“I don’t feel it so much when I’m with you,” I admitted, my arms still laying on the arms of the chair we sat in, purposefully not touching her in some vague attempt to keep my darkness from infecting her. “But I’m not good company right now, baby doll.”

“I don’t have pain like yours in my heart,” she said. “I didn’t have anything at all in my heart before I met you...it was just empty.”

My gut twisted uncomfortably at her words and I hated that there wasn’t anything I could say to make that better.

“But now,” she went on, leaning down to brush her lips over my pounding heart. “It’s filling up.”

I groaned as she moved her mouth to the scar which ran across my ribs, the mark left by a bullet on my shoulder, the one on my cheek too. My fingers curled around the armrests and dug in as she continued to hunt out my scars and kiss them all - not like she was trying to make them better, but like she adored each and every one of them.

She slid from my lap and onto her knees between my parted thighs, rolling down my sweatpants to reveal the thick length of my cock. When she kissed me there, I groaned, my eyes falling shut as I tipped my head back and focused every inch of my attention on what she was doing.

Her tongue ran in a smooth line from the base of my shaft right up to the head before she swirled it around the tip, moaning softly

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